


Collar

by Greytipped (halreyn)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M, blind loyalty, catboy, jongdae as lynx, shifter!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:29:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halreyn/pseuds/Greytipped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They lock a collar of pure silver around Jongdae’s neck, so he can’t transform. Kai takes him as his due.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They lock a collar of pure silver around Jongdae’s neck, so he can’t transform.

It’s a long journey, back to the capital city. Jongdae gets used to its weight around his neck, gets used to waking up in the middle of the night, struggling to scream. Gets used to short, animal noises being the only thing he can utter.

They take to sedating him, every night. Jongdae gets used to that, after a while. It’s better than dreaming of his clan; his clan that Jongdae can never go back to.

Jongdae looks forwards to dreamless nights.

 

\--

 

The Palace raids the underground market, the first day that they put Jongdae up for sale. He watches through half-closed eyes as Palace guards swarm the market. Some shapeshifters get loose, some get put down. Some merchants die.

Eventually, Jongdae falls asleep. He’s awoken by the opening of the cage door, the fetid air of the market rushing in.

“You fell asleep,” a voice says. Amused. The stranger pats Jongdae’s head kindly.

Later, Jongdae will learn that his name is Kai.

Everyone else is wary, even with the collar. Kai takes Jongdae as his due.

He’s crouched on the floor, dressed in the simple black of a guardsmen. Only the yellow dragon stitched on the underside of his sleeve gives his status away. He’s a member of the royal family.

He has lips that smile, and eyes that are cruel.

“Lynx,” he reads, off the plaque on Jongdae’s cage. “Male, ninety pounds. Fresh-caught. Price, 30 taels of silver.”

Jongdae’s been numb and uncaring for so long, the wave of humiliation that rushes over him makes him bury his face in his arms.

“Do you want to be free?” The man asks, gently. “Come out, lynx.”

Jongdae raises his gaze, heart pounding.  

The man sits on the ground, cross-legged. Ready to wait.

 _You’ll set me free?_ He asks. What comes out instead is a series of low barks.

“The people who caught you are dead,” he says. “Or, they will be. Soon.”

Jongdae lowers his head, thinking. The man sighs, makes to get to his feet.

Jongdae crawls out of the cage in a rush. The man gets hold of his chain and pulls – Jongdae’s elbows give way, and he falls face-first into the man’s lap, legs halfway in the cage.

“Good boy,” the man praises, stroking Jongdae’s hair. “You’re so dirty.”

Jongdae grabs the chain, held in the man’s hand, lifting himself up on his arms. The man takes hold of Jongdae’s waist and pulls, until Jongdae’s sitting in his lap.

He’s not that much bigger than Jongdae, but his hold is strong.

Jongdae waits and keep waiting for him to remove the collar. The man keeps running his finger around the edge of the collar.

He takes it off.

The first few noises Jongdae makes don’t sound like words. He manages to say “thank you,” eventually.

“Don’t thank me,” the man says. He strokes Jongdae’s cheek, smiles.

Someone’s approaching, collars held like keys on a keychain. Kai passes one to him.

Takes a new one from him.

Snaps it around Jongdae’s neck, before he can react. “Thank the Pit,” the man says. “It’s fair.”

The Pit – it’s a gladiatorial contest, between shapeshifters.

Jongdae grabs hold of his robe.

“They’re dead,” the man explains, “because of the Palace. You’re Palace property now. If you want to be free-“ he breaks into a smile again, curving full lips – “go into the Pit.”

The man pushes him off his lap and takes up Jongdae’s chain.

Jongdae opens his mouth to bite his leg; the man kicks him casually, and Jongdae bites his own cheek instead, blood welling instantly. Kicks him a second time, in his side, when he doesn’t move, stunned by the pain.

“Come,” the man says, voice now cool. “Don’t waste my time.”

Jongdae has to crawl, on hands and knees. His legs are too wasted from his time in the cage to support him upright.

No one looks at them, as they pass. Just people breaking open other cages, changing the collars of the other shifters. Just dead people and people alive and shifters somewhere between. Less than alive, but not dead yet.

There aren’t other shifters in the truck that the man leads him into, not yet. His chain gets hooked to one of the protruding metal rings; the man adjusts it, so short that Jongdae’s head is plastered against the wall of the truck.

He leaves; Jongdae closes his eyes. He wants to sleep.

Footsteps. Jongdae keeps his eyes closed.

A thumb wipes the blood that leaked out earlier away.

“Open your mouth,” the man says. Jongdae does, because he doesn’t sound gentle.

It’s a waterskin that he puts by Jongdae’s mouth. Jongdae drinks, because Jongdae’s thirsty and down at the core, it’s all about survival.

He finishes the whole waterskin, suckling at the opening hungrily.

“Hungry?”

Jongdae nods.

”Smart,” the man says, when Jongdae takes his finger into his mouth, licking around it. He replaces it with biscuits, that Jongdae finishes. He licks the crumbs from the man’s hand, pretending he can’t taste the saltiness on his palm.

“Survive the Pit,” the man says. Jongdae nods, and the man gives him another biscuit.

It’s crisp, made of almond and butter. Jongdae holds on to that taste, the whole journey to the pit.

\--


	2. chicken

They shuffle the row of hollow-eyed shifters down the trucks, into the gaping maw of the pit. Built on the outskirts of the capital, it’s an underground arena that has lasted since anyone can remember.

Someone tries running. The guards are on the shifter instantly, putting him down efficiently.

It’s like they were waiting for someone to run, so they could make an example of him. The wolf shifter twitches, dying under the spears pinning him to the ground.

No one else runs, after that.

Jongdae’s shaking. He keeps the taste of almond and butter in his mouth, for as long as he can.

Artificial light, produced by sunstones lining the wall, throws the corridors into relief.

It’s not – clean, but there’s none of the fresh blood that Jongdae was expecting, nor pieces of people’s bodies lying around.

They each get locked into a small wooden room, small enough that Jongdae can’t extend both arms fully. It’s long, though, long enough that he can almost lie down straight.

Jongdae’s used to the cage and the aching, miserable cramps that wreck his body. This is a luxury.

They even give them food – a small plate of rice, some pieces of meat, and a cup of water. Jongdae eats it so fast he has to fight not to throw up.

He can’t. He can’t throw up.

He curls up in the cell, thinking of his clan. That doesn’t help.

He thinks of the man that sent Jongdae to the Pit, but also fed him.  He thinks of the sudden, sweet taste that flooded his mouth.

That helps. Jongdae finally falls into real sleep, the pain eased.

\--

Everyone’s waiting. They want the shifters healthy, it seems. Twice a day, they get led to a central area, where the ground is made of metal. It slopes downwards, forming a natural tray.

They get hosed down here. Jongdae looks forward to this; to fresh, cold water rinsing the dirt of the cell away. It’s the only time he feels remotely human.

\--

Jongdae’s first fight is a group one. Six of them – a monkey shifter, three dogs, and two cats.

The only reason he survives it is because there’s a clouded leopard shifter that is so vicious it kills everyone else.

If it  _is_ called survival, that is. It’s on Jongdae, tearing viciously at him; he blacks out, and later he finds out that they thought he was dead.

But he wasn’t. So Jongdae’s in a guest room, where he is almost dead. The smell of grass and medicine floats in the air, comforting.

Jongdae’s going home soon, he knows. He’ll see the rest of his clan, soon.

But there’s Kai, stroking his forehead. He has small medicine balls in his hand, and he wants Jongdae to eat them.

Even near-death, they still have to have two orderlies to keep his mouth open. They put a ring gag in his mouth, that forces his teeth open and keeps his tongue flattened. Jongdae feels his throat working, trying to throw up, but he has nothing left inside.

“The more you want to die,” Kai says, “the more I want you to live.”

They grind it into powder and mix it with liquid, in front of Jongdae. The wounds all over him keep tugging open; it’s not the pain, Jongdae’s past pain already – but it keeps leaking out all over him, like his brother’s blood did, when he died on top of Jongdae.

“He’s panicking,” someone says, and someone else mutters, “no he’s not.”

Kai pours it down Jongdae’s throat himself, his fingers gripping Jongdae’s chin so tight he can’t keep his eyes closed. Through blurry eyes, he can see Kai’s intense stare, the small, wild smile that says – try to defy me, try it.

Jongdae’s too weak to cough, even. Kai lets him fall back onto the bed, like a marionette with broken strings. He lies there, face wet, saliva leaking out the corners of his mouth and back down his throat, hoping that it’s going to suffocate him.

He feels it will. But it doesn’t, and as though to make up for that, Jongdae gets to fall unconscious again.

They wake him up again, and again, repeating the procedure. Jongdae’s lost count.

But Jongdae knows when it’s working, because he’s strong enough to throw up, this time. Muscles convulsing, bile and liquid leak out of his mouth, down the side of his throat.

“What a waste.” Kai touches him. “Did you get all of it out?”

He motions. Someone passes him a long, metal rod.

“If we get it all out of you, I can feed you another dose,” Kai says warmly.

He lets Jongdae  panic; lets Jongdae struggle fruitlessly against all the bonds, rubbing his wounds open; leaves him to wallow in memories, relieving that day again – he can do this because the gag’s still in Jongdae’s mouth, so he can’t bite his own tongue.

“Be good,” Kai cajoles, stroking Jongdae’s hair. Jongdae’s crying, whole body shaking, as they loosen the bonds, and Kai turns him so he’s lying on his front, a basin put considerately before him.

Jongdae keeps shaking his head, keeps pleading, keeps  _begging._

“Will you do it again?”

Jongdae shakes his head, hard.

“Then I’ll only do this once,” Kai says. Someone holds Jongdae’s head firmly, and Kai inserts the metal rod in, over his tongue, down his throat.

It’s invading his throat, rubbing roughly over Jongdae’s already sore and raw throat. Jongdae tries to keep it in, but once the gag reflex is triggered, it’s hard to stop.

He keeps throwing up, up and up again, unstoppably. He throws up until it feels like there’s nothing left inside him, until his mind is a painful, white blank, until his fingers can’t even curl into a fist, all the energy has been taken away.

It’s the way Jongdae loses control over his own body, that he hates. He’s trapped in this useless piece of meat that’s falling apart, that keeps falling apart, that keeps falling apart with Jongdae inside of it.

Kai wipes his mouth clean – lips, and the inside.

When Jongdae stops shivering, they feed him again. Flip him onto his back and pour it down his throat again, the white lights from above blinding.

He tries, he really tries. Everyone seems to relax, the hands letting go of him.

Jongdae keeps his lips pressed shut, stubbornly, but it rushes back out of his throat, seeping out of the corners of his mouth.

Jongdae lets them turn him over obediently, too numb and too scared to fight back.

Kai takes out the ring gag, that drips with vomit and medicine. Jongdae tries to close his mouth, fails, the muscles too stiff.

Kai presses the rod in again, carefully, and Jongdae throws up, again, again, again.

They lift Jongdae off the wooden table, and put him in Kai’s hold, on the floor.

He’s docile, this time. Kai massages the sides of his mouth, and feeds Jongdae small portions of the medicine, pouring it down using a porcelain spoon.

Someone passes Kai something. It’s a small clay pot; there’s the smell of mint, fresh and clean. Kai alternates the medicine, with that.

Jongdae wants to throw up, but he can’t, because the smell is fresh and clean; it keeps everything down.

They put him back on the wooden table, and re-bandage the wounds. Kai’s there, the whole time, soothing Jongdae.

\--

The pain starts, after that. Jongdae’s suddenly cold, as though he’s stripped naked and thrown into a winter pond. It’s the kind of cold that gets into your bones, to places inside you you didn’t even know existed; seems to linger, no matter how warm you get, after that. It’s the kind of cold that threatens to eat you up inside so you only can remember bad memories, after that.

“It’s cold?” Kai gets onto the table. He hugs Jongdae, draping a blanket over the both of them.

Jongdae clings to Kai, searching for warmth. Kai seems to like it; hugs Jongdae tighter, and orders someone to turn up the heat.

It’s hot, after that. The kind of heat that leaves you dizzy and your limbs weak, soul floating on the surface of heat that threatens to rise like acidic smoke through it.

Jongdae lets Kai take away the blanket; take away the loose cloth covering Jongdae, exposing him to the air.

Jongdae plucks at his bandages, but Kai pins his hands down. He ties them back to the mooring posts, again, leaving Jongdae shifting restlessly, sweat beading and lips cracking, slowly.

They hose Jongdae down; Jongdae can feel blood, soaking out, together with the water.

Why isn’t he dead?

It’s cold, again. Kai climbs back beside Jongdae, holding him. Warm.

“Want – to die,” Jongdae manages to whisper.

“You want to die?” Kai asks.

Jongdae manages to nod.

“Don’t make me angry,” Kai says. Jongdae closes his eyes and shakes. Kai touches him, says, “don’t say that again,” and Jongdae nods, like a doll.

This time, the cold lasts long enough that Jongdae’s convinced he’s dead. It lasts long enough to take all sensation away from him, until he’s unconscious and he didn’t even know how or when.

\--

It’s like the past few hours were a bad dream, when Jongdae wakes up. He’s still sleeping next to Kai, but they’re on a bed, a soft woollen blanket pulled over them.

Jongdae’s skin itches, but there are no marks on them. His skin is suspiciously clean and shiny, lacking even the wounds made, in the Pit.

His jaws still ache, though.

Kai’s awake, and looking at Jongdae, dark eyes half-lidded. He pulls Jongdae in to him, wrinkling the bedsheets.

Jongdae’s resisting, because he’s  _scared._ Kai just looks at him, and it’s Jongdae that gives in first. Curls up closer to Kai.

“Hungry?”

Jongdae freezes, unmoving.

“No,” he says. “No. I don’t want it.”

“Still so stubborn,” Kai says. “I meant food. Normal food.”

He sits up, blanket falling away. Kai’s half-naked underneath.

There are scars, criss-crossing that body of his. Battle scars, so many for one so young.

Jongdae stays in place, watching, as Kai gets out of bed, going to the small table in the centre. He takes back a plate of steamed chicken meat, diced and sprinkled with parsley.

“Small bites,” Kai says, “to let your stomach get used to it.”

Jongdae’s still hesitating. He says, low, “I’m scared,” because he knows Kai’s expecting an answer.

“I know,” Kai says, gently. “We’ll go slow.”

Eating has never been an ordeal before. This time, Jongdae doesn’t know if he can ever eat again.

He makes himself chew and swallow woodenly. Kai alternates between feeding Jongdae and himself. He doesn’t say anything when Jongdae stops, says  in a small voice, “I can’t.”

Kai doesn’t mention anything about what happened, and neither does Jongdae ask. He reads a paper scroll, while Jongdae closes his eyes, pulling the woollen blanket over him again.

It’s still chicken meat, the next time Kai wakes him up. There are herbs, this time, slightly sweet. Jongdae forces himself to eat as much as he can.

Kai makes him get off the bed. Jongdae stands there in his thin robe, unsure of what to do. Kai takes his hand and walks him around the room, circle after circle, letting Jongdae get used to the feeling of walking.

It might seem strange, but Jongdae’s body feels different. It feels like it’s not his. It’s weak, but at the same time, as it recovers, hour after hour, it seems stronger.

Jongdae keeps making mistakes with his footsteps, because he tends to step out a bit further than he intends to. He bumps into Kai, more than once, because he estimated the distance wrongly.

Kai’s patient with him. They keep walking around the room.

Kai starts to throw small objects at him. He throws the pillow, a plate, a cup – things that Jongdae should catch easily, except he doesn’t. It’s good that these don’t break easily.

By the time the next meal is here, brought in by a solemn guard, Jongdae’s almost back to normal.

Still chicken, again. Kai makes Jongdae finish the whole plate this time, feeding him by hand, piece by piece, insistently.

It’s back to sleep, after that. Jongdae’s a bit tired, from the exercise.

\--

“Feeling better?” Kai asks. He pats Jongdae kindly.

Jongdae nods, yawns.

“That’s good,” Kai says. “I should thank the medical division, then, for the pills. Do you know what these do, Jongdae?”

Jongdae shakes his head.

“They accelerate healing,” Kai says, “and also, change your body. It should make you faster. Stronger.”

Jongdae’s still processing that, when Kai says, “do better in the Pit, this time.”

He gets off the bed. Extends hands, to lock the slave collar (that Jongdae didn’t even realize had been taken out) around his neck again.

He attaches a chain to it, and tugs. Waits, patiently, for Jongdae to get off the bed.

“Pit?”

“You’re going back in,” Kai confirms.

“If I’m injured.”

“Of course I’ll save you,” Kai says. “I still have a whole chest of that medicine left, Jongdae.”

Jongdae lets Kai lead him out, cold.

 

\--


	3. does it matter?

Jongdae’s first kill is a bird shifter.

Jongdae has him pinned - just wants to choke him, choke him until he goes unconscious, but he doesn’t account for his strength. His fingers go through the soft flesh of the boy’s throat, slicing blood vessels below. An arc of hot blood spurts, blinding Jongdae. He staggers backwards, stunned.

Through eyes misted with blood, Jongdae can see the boy’s body convulsing, limbs scraping the ground. He’s still trying to crawl towards Jongdae, but his limbs are losing strength rapidly, drained almost instantly by the geyser of blood soaking the stone floor.

Over the gurgling from his throat, Jongdae can hear twittering, made by his pursed lips.

He’s reaching for Jongdae, blaming him. Cursing him.

They say, kill a bird shifter, lose your wings.

Someone jumps Jongdae from behind. Jongdae panics, because he’s getting pushed to the floor, nearer and nearer the dying shifter.

He reaches behind him, and someone screams. Jongdae- his hands, his fingers, have sunk into someone’s leg. Jongdae yanks his hand away, face pressed to the stone floor, watching as the bird shifter crawls closer.

He rolls over, the shifter on his back loosening its grip. Jongdae tries to run, but it’s still holding on.

He reaches behind him, tearing another chunk of meat away. It  _screams_ and falls off Jongdae.

Jongdae runs for the walls, runs until he can’t run and he’s hidden in the darkest corner of the arena.

His fingernails have meat, clinging to them. Jongdae watches, as the bird shifter dies, and the racoon shifter is set upon by other shifters. They plunge hands, teeth, one bites, into the wound Jongdae made, in the racoon’s side.

It keeps screaming, shrilly. Jongdae can see the gruesome pink of its intestines; one of them takes it in his mouth, skitters backwards, tearing it out of the racoon shifter.

The rest of them close in, and Jongdae huddles in the corner, hands over his ears.

They come for Jongdae, the last two, flanking him. Circling, growling in unison.

Bear shifters.

Jongdae gets pinned down by one. He bites part of its arm off, blood soaking and flowing. The other one tears a piece of meat out of Jongdae’s shoulder. Is going to bite him, mouth gaping, blood and meat flying, but Jongdae  _bites,_ tearing off part of its nose.

Somehow he gets them off him; pushes one of them down and slams his head grimly into the concrete, like he’s watching someone else do it. His arm aches, from the impact.

He’s chased away by the other bear shifter – Jongdae can see the white of his nosebridge, bone sharp.

The other shifter’s silent, body jerking strangely on the ground.

It charges Jongdae – moves in closer and closer, and Jongdae has white noise in his ears.

It’s like a walking nightmare. It comes closer and closer keeps backing away, it won’t leave him alone and

and

Jongdae has to kill him. He feels the softness of his neck, the refusal of the bone to give, before he cracks it – twists it around, violently.

The wide eyes of the shifter stare at nothing, eyes bulging, bones in the nose and neck protruding through torn skin and meat. Jongdae drops it, stumbles backwards.

The crowd rises, all on their feet, an approving roar growing like the tide.

Jongdae doesn’t even touch himself, because it there’s blood everywhere and it seems it’s going to sink into his skin and eat him from inside out.

\--

Kai washes Jongdae, himself. He cleans Jongdae’s face and locks Jongdae’s wrists into cuffs, to stop him from scratching at himself.

\--

They break Jongdae’s ankle, later, to get him to open his mouth. Kai probes the tongue that Jongdae has almost bitten clean through, before fitting a ring gag back in again.

He’s still gentle, although his anger is clear.

“Why can’t you be this smart in the Pit?” He asks, clearly not expecting an answer.

They make Jongdae sit up, leaning forward so the blood doesn’t go down his throat and let him die, like he wants to.

There’s a doctor, who applies pressure to Jongdae’s tongue. Tears are flowing a steady stream from Jongdae’s eyes, because of the pain. He can’t twist out of Kai’s hold, but the doctor keeps holding a wad of cloth to his tongue.

“Will the medicine be faster, or will he die first?”

“It’s not a miracle pill,” the doctor says. “Let’s stop the bleeding first.”

So they stop the bleeding. Jongdae faints from the pain, and when he wakes, nothing has changed. The cloth is still wedged in his mouth, blood leaking from it.

They pour medicine down Jongdae’s throat; Kai does it steadily, making Jongdae work to keep up. It’s reflex, to not want to choke – reflex that Jongdae can’t stop.

Halfway, the blood starts leaking, again. Jongdae’s drinking it, coppery, together with the bitter, grass-like medicine.

It’s a relief, almost, when the cold sets back in.

Jongdae’s so weak, now. So full of pain, from his tongue, from the wounds. Exhausted.

He can’t survive this. He won’t.

\--

Jongdae remembers huddling into Kai; Kai talking, snide, but hands gentle, hug warm.

\--

When Jongdae wakes up again, he’s in his animal form.

“I like you better like this,” Kai says, pleased. He’s fondling Jongdae’s ears playfully, seated cross-legged on the bed, next to Jongdae.

It’s not a bad life. Kai brushes Jongdae’s fur, play-wrestles with him, lets him roam around the room and climb furniture. Jongdae gets food, and water.

It’s a few days later before Jongdae realizes what’s wrong.

The door had opened, and Jongdae had approached Kai, slinking across the floor to press his head against Kai’s leg.

The longer you stay in animal form, the less human you become. Everyone knows that, and now that Jongdae’s thinking, it’s clear how little he has been thinking, over the past few days.

Kai has the food set on the table. Usually, Jongdae will sit by his feet, and Kai will feed him, piece by piece.

Jongdae’s making a low, whining sound. He turns round and round, trying to change back, but he can’t. Something’s stopping him.

Kai waits until Jongdae’s exhausted and confused, before whistling. Jongdae’s ears twitch, eyes following Kai’s hand, as he flips a piece of raw meat to Jongdae.

Jongdae’s snatching it out of the air, swallowing in one gulp, before he knows what he’s doing.

This isn’t good. They had stories, back in their village, about shifters who turned feral. Who had to be put down, because they weren’t human. They didn’t have anything remotely human left in them, once they had spent enough time in their animal form.

Kai flips another piece, and Jongdae goes for it, feet skidding across the stone floor.

It’s not like he can stop himself.

\--

“Does he look familiar?”

Chanyeol peers at the cat, confused. Yixing, the doctor who took care of Jongdae, goes an interesting shade of white-green.

“Yixing’s smart,” Kai praises. He tosses a piece of meat at Yixing, who catches it by reflex. Jongdae’s by his side in a flash, eagerly nosing at Yixing’s hand, trying to claw his way up Yixing.

Yixing throws the meat away, angry. Jongdae knows he is angry, but he doesn’t care – is jumping after food, tumbling over himself to get to it.

“How long has he been stuck like this?”

Kai whistles. Jongdae swishes his tail, considering. He peeks at the platter of meat beside Kai, and patters across the room, back to Kai.

Kai pats Jongdae, rewarding him with another piece of meat. Jongdae’s careful not to bite him – the last time he did, Kai had simply taken the food away, for a few days, leaving only water behind.

“You can’t treat someone like this,” Yixing says.

“He doesn’t mind.” Kai holds Jongdae’s jaw, slipping a thumb in between the yellowed teeth, over the rough cat’s tongue. “He’s happier like that.”

“Wait,” Chanyeol begins. “That’s a shifter?”

Kai turns Jongdae’s jaw from side to side. Jongdae bats his leg with a paw, leaving tiny lines of blood.

Kai laughs, unfazed. He shakes Jongdae’s jaw even harder, in return. Yixing’s hands are curling into fists.

“So all the training gear that you asked me to bring,” Chanyeol says, “is for a shifter?”

“I’ll be doing the training,” Kai says, happily.

“You trained hunting dogs, this is a cat shifter,” Chanyeol says. “Ethics aside… Will it even work? If it’s for your bet with Xiumin, that’s in a month. You don’t have the time, because you need to be at court.”

“The old man won’t give me land of my own, even after we won that war,” Kai says. “I don’t need to be at court. That’s not the field now – I’m not even _allowed_ on that field now – the real battle is fought here, with those brothers of mine.”

“It’s just a bet,” Chanyeol says.

“The higher you are in the pack, the less you can let any dog eat before you,” Kai says. “Everyone’s a hungry mutt, watching for any signs of weakness. I lose, I have nothing to lose – anyone who rubs the loss in my face, I’ll set my dogs on them, people expect that – Xiumin loses, people will talk. Xiumin hates people talking. That’s his weakness, and as his brother, it’s my duty to tear a fucking gaping hole in him because of that.”

“I’m just your lieutenant,” Chanyeol says. “What do I know.”

“Take it as a break,” Kai says. “Help me with the training.”

“Your subordinates have work, as well, if you haven’t realized.” Chanyeol says. “Your Pack won’t manage itself.”

“It’s my break, then,” Kai says. “I could think of worse places to be.”

“Have you thought about what this will do to him?” Yixing says, coldly.

“Have a heart,” Kai says, “I have a brain, even if it’s not as big as yours. Or Suho’s.”

“He’s a shifter,” Yixing says. “A person.”

“He kept trying to kill himself,” Kai says. “He’s happier this way. Look at him.”

“When he returns to human form,” Yixing says, “how is he going to survive?”

“I could keep him this way,” Kai says. “But the shifter faction would rise up against me, of course. Or I can hope that he’ll kill himself. Or, I can give him to you, Yixing, since you take in strays all the time.”

“I won’t do it.”

“You’re a good person,” Kai says, “I’ll keep making use of that, until you change.”

“You just don’t care,” Yixing says, as though he’s discovering something new.

“I do,” Kai says, “just not about this.”

Sensing the tension, Jongdae butts his head against Kai’s knee. Jumps onto the bench, stepping into Kai’s lap.

“His mind is gone,” Kai says. “I’m talking about making use of him, and he’s worried about me.” Jongdae’s shooting warning looks at Yixing now, threatening.

“It’s a dog-eat-dog world,” Kai says.

“You  _stupid cat_ ,” Yixing says. Jongdae hisses at him, makes to pounce, but Kai grabs hold of his collar.

“No,” Kai says. Jongdae doesn’t listen, still straining against Kai’s hold.

Kai whistles, sharp, and Jongdae subsides, grudgingly. He noses at Kai’s hand, then attempts to climb over Kai’s shoulder, to the food.

Kai slaps his flank, shoving him off the bench . Jongdae falls over his own feet, then steps off the bench into empty air.

He slinks away, tail held high.

“If he was one of my dogs, I would – I would not even take him home,” Kai says, pointing at Jongdae. “Cat keeps treating me like a piece of furniture, or a food tray.”

“I don’t understand you,” Yixing says. Kai shrugs. “Your loss.”

Yixing turns and leaves, slamming the door behind him so hard Jongdae lifts his head enquiringly, from the nest he’s made from torn blankets in the corner of the room.

“Well, I should go,” Chanyeol says.

“Don’t,” Kai says. “Not you too. I need to start training the cat today.”

“You grew up with dogs, you can rear him better than I ever could,” Chanyeol lifts his hands peaceably.

“I thought we were never going to talk about that,” Kai says.

“That’s because you made sure that the loudest, noisiest people got cut up and fed to dogs, after the Emperor reinstated you as a member of the royal family.”

“I’m worried,” Kai says. “I wasn’t lying. This isn’t just a bet. This will be what determines if Xiumin will take me as a member of his faction.”

“But you told Yixing you wanted to  _embarrass_ Xiumin.”

“Look at who Xiumin has backing him,” Kai says. “Luhan. How could I go against Xiumin? I just need him to think that I’m going against him. So he starts considering whether he’ll destroy me – and you’ll make it clear, this month, that he can’t, not at a cost – or whether he can buy me over.”

“Why can’t you just approach him with an alliance?”

“Because my dear brother Suho might ruin me first,” Kai says. “I can’t look like I’m going towards Xiumin, Suho would convince the Emperor to strip me of my Pack, or he would simply talk to me until he finds a way to kill me and make it look like it was Xiumin. We’re not that important to either one of them, Xiumin or Suho – we just have to walk carefully between these two, until the war starts and I can finally make something of my own.”

“You always say you’re stupid,” Chanyeol says, ruefully. “But you scare me, sometimes, Kai.”

“I only know how to live with dogs,” Kai says. “Two alphas want to fight – you get out of the way, until you know who’s going to win. That’s what this is.”

“A dogfight,” Chanyeol says. “It’s always a dogfight, with you.”

“I can bark better than I can speak,” Kai says. “So, you’ll help me?”

Chanyeol glances at Jongdae. “What will you do, if he wins the fight?”

“I don’t know,” Kai says, drumming his fingers on the table. “Depends.”

“It really doesn’t matter, to you?”

“Does it, to you?”

“No,” Chanyeol has to admit. One less shifter makes no difference to him. He has his own battles to fight.

He wonders when he’s become so cold.

Kai gets to his feet, whistling for Jongdae.


	4. sunlight

Sunlight can be strange and unfamiliar, heating cold skin, paralyzing weak eyes.

Kai and Chanyeol walk into the garden first, leaving Jongdae crouching in the dark entrance.

It’s not really a garden. It’s a wild patch of grass, surrounded by steep, craggy mountain walls, as black as coal.

Jongdae takes a step, onto grass, wincing at the prickly sensation. Takes another, then runs across the grass to Kai, who obligingly bends on one knee so Jongdae can try to climb on him.

“Too big to carry,” Kai says, moving his face out of the way, rubbing behind Jongdae’s ears. He does it until Jongdae flops onto his back, exposing his stomach for Kai.

Kai humours him, hand moving over his vulnerable stomach, occasionally tugging at sparse clumps of fur.

Chanyeol flops to the grass, beside them.

“So what do I need to do this month?”

“Military exercises,” Kai says. “Domestic, and international. Have the Pack do an exercise near here, through some of the villages. Practice guerrilla warfare. Show them that we can do enough damage to their residences, that we’re capable enough of circumventing their own House troops. Also send parts of the Pack to –“

“Back to the border,” Chanyeol says. “And do exercises with Sehun’s troops. I’ve already arranged that.”

Kai laughs.

“You’ve never said where you met him,” Chanyeol says. “No one actually knows.”

“Sehun likes to get around,” Kai says, easily.

Chanyeol unties the bag of tools beside him; he’s been around Kai long enough, to know when Kai doesn’t want anyone to keep poking at the subject.

He takes out a short stick, an end firmly swaddled by cloth. Passes it to Kai, who pokes at Jongdae’s snout with it. Jongdae sneezes, whiskers twitching. Finally he bites at the cloth, attempting to tear it. The material is hard and slick, though, surprisingly resilient.

Kai refuses to leave him alone, keeps jabbing at Jongdae with the stick. Frustrated, Jongdae pounces on it.

Kai yanks the stick away and tosses it to Chanyeol, who has stood up. He points and whistles – differently, this time, sharper, more piercing.

Chanyeol taps the stick meaningfully in a hand, advancing on Jongdae. Jongdae takes one, two steps back, tail twitching.

He’s off, feet scrabbling for purchase in the grass, bypassing the stick, claws digging into Chanyeol’s pants.

Chanyeol does something with the stick, forcefully dislodging Jongdae’s paws.

Blood, welling up, from the claw marks, through torn cloth.

 Kai’s whistling again, lower-pitched. It’s what he uses to call Jongdae to his side.

Jongdae shakes himself off, annoyed. The world here is bright and green, more interesting than the small stone chamber he’s been cooped up in for a long while.

But Kai’s whistling, and Kai usually feeds Jongdae.

Jongdae’s not hungry, now, though.

He’s off, among the low trees.

\--

It’s Chanyeol waiting, later, when Jongdae wanders back through the thicket, to the entrance of the valley.

He has food, a few pieces of meat in a bowl. Jongdae winds his way there and sits, waiting.

It’s usually Kai who feeds Jongdae. He remembers that much.

“He’s not coming back for a while,” Chanyeol says. “If you can still understand me.”

He starts to say something, then stops. Goes back inside, closing the door behind him.

Confused, Jongdae starts to wash himself, licking off the dirt and burrs. Kai will get the places he can’t reach.

\--

Kai doesn’t come back. It’s still Chanyeol, who comes by once a day, leaving food. Jongdae’s hunger pushes him to eat, but he still noses at Chanyeol anyway, attempting to climb past him, back into the stone place.

Two days, then three days.

The way Jongdae’s thinking  _is_ starting to change. Is becoming looser, more unformed, more so than it is.

There’s open space, food, water, trees. Jongdae’s winding his way around them but it seems like he’s forgetting. Words, names, places.

\--

He goes, the next time he hears a familiar whistle. Climbs into Kai’s lap anxiously, letting him bury his face in Jongdae’s fur, holding him close.

All Jongdae remembers, now, is that he needs this person.

\--

The training goes faster, after that. Chanyeol wields the stick seriously, Jongdae dodging and avoiding and finally retailiaitng in frustration.

Kai brings in live objects. Rabbits, first – those are easy – then bigger animals. Fellow cats. A series of wild boars, that almost gore Jongdae.

A larger deer, once. Jongdae’s dimly aware that he’s moving faster, hitting harder than he thought he usually could.

But Kai’s there, and he feeds Jongdae after they’re done, and grooms him. Even though he never brings him back into the stone place again.

\--

One day Jongdae wakes up, and he’s shaped differently. His limbs are longer, hairless – the grass scratches really badly now – and he can’t bite well. His teeth are too blunt. Not to mention his claws, which have disappeared.

He can’t fit well into Kai’s lap, now. He barely can, his legs dangling outside. Kai still pets him and feeds him, nonetheless.

The back of Jongdae’s neck still tingles – makes him go weak, whenever Kai touches that spot.

Chanyeol’s still holding the stick. Jongdae trips and falls, when he tries to run. He has to get used to this new body all over again, carefully.

He’s bigger now, so he can jump further. But he can’t bite or hit as hard.

\--

They take him into the stone place again, Kai holding his paw (five-fingered, better for grip). He goes through gates and gates, into a place that smells of blood and meat and stone.

Jongdae’s full, but it’s still meat. Only Kai can feed him, though, so Jongdae regretfully reminds himself not to eat.

It’s so big – big, bigger than the valley, big enough that the place is cavernous and the shadows are huge and long, like the night sky. There are people, all around, chattering.

The ground underfoot is dirty and cracked. Jongdae wrinkles his nose, shifting from foot to foot.

There’s someone else standing on the other side of the arena. Crouching, fierce. He looks at Jongdae like no one else ever had, like a wild boar, maybe.

He’s bigger than Jongdae. A lot bigger, muscles bulging and shiny.

A familiar whistle pierces the air. Kai points at the other person, and nods, through the wooden grids of the door leading back inside.

It’s the hardest fight that Jongdae has been in. The other person creeps across the ground, fast and low. Jongdae gets clipped, in the side, and then trampled upon, before he can run away, scaling the sides of the arena.

He sits on the cold round bar, people screaming and scattering away from him. The person stands below and bellows, angrily.

He’s so angry. Jongdae stands, balancing. He walks and keeps walking, calmly, letting the person trail him below.

Jongdae’s watching for an opportunity. But there are people running down the steps towards him, holding shiny steel spears.

Jongdae jumps down from the bar, crouching at the steps. This way, the angry one can’t see him.

The steel-holding people are still approaching. Jongdae runs, on hands and feet (awkwardly), deftly, back in the direction he came from. Flips back over the rail effortlessly, in a tight ball.

The bull-person (Jongdae just knows) is still turning, when Jongdae hits the stone floor of the arena, rolling to disperse the impact.

He comes charging, at Jongdae.

It’s all about speed, after that. Jongdae dances across the broken floor, choosing the worst places to step.

It’s  _fun._ The bull-person’s catching up to Jongdae, nearer and nearer, slipping in places.

It’s not as fun, when his massive blows catch Jongdae, sending him flying like a doll across the ground. Jongdae can feel the skin peel away, the friction burning.

The bull catches Jongdae, again, after they’ve been dancing around for a long while. Slams him so hard he skids across the floor on his side, shoulder slamming into the wall so hard Jongdae sees stars.

Jongdae’s panting, struggling to stand, as the bull-person approaches.

There are horns, beginning to twist out of the sides of his human head.

Jongdae clutches the wall, climbs, as the bull charges. He’s still human, just not his head – the ugly snarling features of a bull, yelling, horns bony and sharp.

The impact looses Jongdae’s grip; he drops, twisting, onto the bull’s human back. Claws tear out of Jongdae’s fingers, fully – he ignores the pain, sinking them into the bull. Opens his mouth, lynx-fangs ripping out of the gums.

Even his legs are changing, back claws twisting and breaking and reshaping his toes.

He claws his way up the back of the bull, who’s trying to stand upright, to shake Jongdae off him. Jongdae lunges, bites the back of the bull’s neck, desperately.

It’s all about luck, now. Jongdae keeps biting, as hard as he can, as deep as he can, blood coming out of the corners of his mouth and flooding his throat.

The bull turns, slams his back (and Jongdae) into the wall, hard enough that pain  _flattens_ Jongdae’s spine, loosening his grip.

Jongdae bites back down again, grimly. He can’t hang on for much longer.

It’s not as hard to bite through the mangled flesh, this time. His limbs are locking, tightening, to become the hardier lynx.

He gets hit again, and this time the impact is so strong Jongdae’s falling off the bull, before he knows it.

Fully cat again, he scrambles across the arena floor, away from the treacherous hooves of the bull. They stomp the floor so hard stone chips are sent flying.

The lynx, panicking, can only run. Jongdae keeps running and running, the bull-man chasing him, desperate.

He rolls under the bull’s cloved feet, a feet crushing his forearm. Jongdae whines and does his best to run away, adrenaline chasing, pain sinking.

He can’t climb, now. The bull keeps coming after him, blood watering its front, spurting out from its throat.

Jongdae keeps running, and it keeps chasing.

It’s getting closer, and slower. Finally it trips and falls. Can’t get up again, no matter how hard it tries, blood now fountaining from the torn throat.

Pain rips through Jongdae, as he’s forced out of his cat form, back into the hairless-one.

His arm dangles, useless, a mangled heap of bone and meat.

There’s the familiar whistle, again. Persistent.

Jongdae doesn’t want to lose Kai. He makes his way slowly, around the back of the bull. Darts forward and scrabbles onto him, tearing and tearing at the throat with his left hand, blood soaking, until the body below stops moving.

\--

They don’t let Jongdae go back to cat form, and neither is Kai there.

Jongdae drinks bitter medicine, without Kai. ( _hold him / stay still / fucking cat / what a monster, did you watch the match outside)_

He’s cold and hot, without Kai. ( _kai? Kai’s brutal, he trained him up, what do you think he’ll do with this rabid creature now that he’s won / no one would be able to tame him, I say they put him down, or toss him back into the arena and keep sending shifters in until he dies from exhaustion)_

He wakes up, without Kai.

\--

Kai’s the first word that comes out of his mouth. It’s the only thing, he says, pleadingly and a bit shy, to the man with a permanent frown on his face.

He gets angry, everytime Jongdae asks for Kai.

Jongdae’s happy to be out of the stone place – the man led him out of that place, people shying away from Jongdae, whispers following him – onto a rectangular wooden box, perched on wheels. Horses waited in the harnesses.

They travel to a new place, a house with a stone courtyard and many rooms. It smells like herbs.

The man’s always with Jongdae. He doesn’t whistle, like Kai, but he holds Jongdae’s chain and orders him to feed himself.

He gives Jongdae his own section of the house; a small courtyard, with a tiny pond, and a few trees. There are three rooms, but Jongdae only uses one. It’s built in the traditional Beijing way, with a bed built into the wall, gauze curtains falling over it to keep out insects, a round wooden table before that, and a study table with books and pens with horsehair nibs and tiny stone trays for ink.

They lock the doors leading to the other parts of the house, the rest of the time. Jongdae sits with his feet in the pond and plays at catching the koi inside.

\--

Jongdae starts to remember, and that’s the worst part of all this. That he remembers, with growing sanity, what happened.

“Yixing,” he says, one day. Yixing’s removing the empty food bowls away; he stops, looks at Jongdae, with pity in his eyes.

Jongdae didn’t really understand  _why,_ but over the next few days, he does so.

He stops eating.

Yixing cooks soup, soup that’s fresh and clean, without any meat inside of it. Water. Rice rolls, with carrot and radish and tofu inside.

Jongdae doesn’t even have the strength to die, so he eats, slowly. Eats little.

He never thought he could be scared by his cat, but he is, now.

What is he supposed to do, now? His body reminds him, at every step, at every instinctual move, how thoroughly it wasn't his, for that period of time.

He's not even useful, anymore.


	5. compass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jongdae and direction

Shifters are not human. Even the shifters themselves acknowledge that.

Some shifters might say that they are  _more_ than human, but for those that live around China and Mongolia, anywhere near to civilization – they don’t say that, unless they’re asking for extermination.

Shifters and humans used to live in relative peace (that’s what some old-timers say), until the reformation happened, and shifters became commodities – to be hunted, and led, by man.

The shifter tribes left over, they stay far away from humans.

It’s not even an issue now. Shifters are traded, and sold, with efficiency.

Jongdae’s collar is a plain one, unmarked by any House sigils, but he’s under no illusion that he will get one soon. No shifter is ever left unmarked.

Where can he go? His tribe is gone, demolished by the hunters.

Kai trained him up for the fight, then let him go. Yixing’s only keeping him out of charity.

Jongdae has nowhere to go. Nowhere. He doesn’t just mean physical location – he means that he feels like he’s taking up air that he shouldn’t, space that he shouldn’t – that this world will not be different without him, and his life has run its course, even if he disappears in the next second he wouldn’t have any ties back to this world.

He won’t hurt anyone, if he leaves now.

If he goes back into the world, though – Jongdae remembers being locked into the cages, muscles growing weak, bones shattered and reset. Remembers Kai and how careful he had been with Jongdae- he had to, Jongdae had to be groomed and fed and positioned, to be a self-driving arrow, that would find meaning and strength in being used.

That will be his life, back in the world.

Jongdae pushes the bowl of porridge away. Why had he been scared, in the Pit? Why did he run away, in the name of survival?

\--

Jongdae wakes up, smelling blood in the air.

There are shouts outside. People groaning, in pain.

Jongdae lies flattened on his bed, fear keeping him down.

After a while, nothing happens. There are still groans, but the shouts aren’t- they are just people giving orders.

It sounds like a medicine hall. Maybe Jongdae  _is_ in a medicine hall. That would explain the injured people.

Curiosity gets the better of him. He goes out, into the courtyard. Walks to the red teak doorframe, leaning against the closed door, listening.

He turns to stone, because he hears a familiar voice. Not too loud, but unrestrained, unrefined, almost. Spoken casually, with a hint of intimidation behind it – playful, as always.

Kai.

_Tell me they’ll be fine._

_I’m not a miracle worker. You’re not hurt?_

_I have my Pack._

_Xiumin has bruises._

_He’s getting older, and slow._

_No fighting in my courtyard, or you can stitch them back yourself, Xiumin. Kai._

_It’s all over._ A calmer, amused voice.  _We’re not fighting anymore, now that Kai’s finally gotten my attention. You’ve worked hard._

Kai’s familiar laugh.  _I was trying so hard to impress you!_

 _I saw,_ Xiumin says.  _You took that little bet so seriously…that you could find the ingredients for Yixing to get him to make the medicine… you must owe your life to him._

 _My life could be owed to you,_ Kai says, coyly.

 _If Suho heard,_ Xiumin says,  _he’ll get father to throw you back to the dogs._

 _I liked it there,_ Kai says,  _fed well, slept well... I lost weight when I went back to the Palace._

 _I’ll get people to send good food over for your dogs, and you,_ Xiumin promises.  _But not openly. You understand, right?_

 _I’ll wait,_ Kai says,  _not for long, though._

 _You’ll wait for however long I choose,_ Xiumin says, easily.

_So sure of yourself, brother._

_Sure of you,_ XIumin corrects,  _and how much you actually hate Suho._

_What makes you think I actually like you?_

_I don’t know,_ Xiumin says,  _I wasn’t the one whose mother got both of us sent away from the Palace…you to the kennels, me as a servant in the brothels._

_I think you’re the one who hates Suho, da ge._

_I didn’t know I wasn’t clear about that,_ Xiumin says, amused.  _I should go back, check on my soldiers. Good fight today, Kai._

… _You should go back as well,_ Yixing says.

 _What happened to the lynx?_ Kai asks. Jongdae’s suddenly aware that Kai’s just a door away from him – stiffens, holding his breathing.

 _What could happen,_ Yixing says.  _You ruined him._

_You must have a hard time, taking care of him._

_He’s fine, he keeps to himself. Doesn’t give me any trouble._

_Doesn’t sound ruined, to me. Where is he, Yixing?_

_You’re not doing him any favors. He won the match for you. Leave him alone._

_Where can he go?_ Kai asks.  _Yixing._

_You should leave._

_I’ll search this place room by room, if I have to._

_You only care about yourself, don’t you?_

_That’s right,_ Kai says,  _that’s how I survived._

Silence, in the courtyard. Jongdae’s still holding his breath.

He falls back from the door, as it opens.

“Jongdae,” Kai says, surprised. “If you can eavesdrop, you’re probably better.”

Kai’s looking Jongdae over, carefully. He puts fingers on Jongdae’s shoulder, indicating for him to turn.

Jongdae turns, before he knows what he’s doing.

“Any nightmares? Trouble sleeping?” Kai steps forward, until he’s pressed against Jongdae’s back. His breath, voice, they come sudden, hot, intimate, beside Jongdae’s left ear.

His fingers trace Jongdae’s ribs, then slip down to hold his waist. “You haven’t been eating.”

Jongdae’s – Kai fed him, by hand, for over a month. Kai  _also_ force-fed Jongdae – Jongdae remembers that.

He doesn’t move, can’t move, too conflicted to  _move._

“He can’t eat meat,” Yixing says, from behind them. Jongdae startles, tries to turn around, but Kai tightens his grip. Jongdae bumps into Kai, tries to retreat, but Kai follows him – moving in and out, seamlessly, keeping them pressed together.

Jongdae feels – bare. Vulnerable. Scared, but at the same time, it’s also something familiar, something Jongdae dreams about at night, sometimes – Kai holding Jongdae’s cat form close, stroking his ears, down his back, smile tucked into Jongdae’s fur -

Kai has a smell, Jongdae realizes. Remembers. Like human skin, warmed, with a tinge of salt, and also dog.

His cat says, turn and cling onto Kai, dig claws deep in, until Kai can’t leave; until Kai can’t hurt him.

He doesn’t turn, to look at Kai.

But neither can he move away.

Kai lifts his hands off Jongdae. Jongdae has a moment of sheer panic, where he’s convinced that Kai’s going to back away.

The hands come back, landing on Jongdae’s shoulders. They knead his shoulders firmly, moving in slow, tight circles.

“You’re so tense,” Kai says, and Jongdae just – just stands there, letting Kai touch him. Afraid that Kai will leave, but also angry at what Kai did to him.

Jongdae’s shoulders relax, but the rest of his body keeps tensing up.

Kai moves. Jongdae’s extra-sensitive to him, and he’s moving, away from Kai, instinctively.

“I have some time,” Kai says. “Let’s have a meal.”

Jongdae shakes his head, tightly.

“You’re too thin.”

“I’m not,” Jongdae says.

Kai’s just  - looking at Jongdae, and that looks like disappointment.

Jongdae’s conscious, of how he is. More and more, the less he eats, the less he goes out, in the day – he’s becoming more like a ghost.

Jongdae hisses at Kai. Whoever Jongdae is, whatever he is – it’s none of Kai’s business.

The corners of Kai’s lips twitch. “Lynx,” he says, affectionately.

Jongdae backs away. Turns, and runs for his room, scared.

\--

“I grew up with dogs,” Kai says. “I want to go back there, again.”

Jongdae’s curled up in his hold, barely breathing. Kai followed him into his room, stalked him until he got Jongdae to stay at last – both on the bed, Kai at the edge of the bed, Jongdae beside him - Jongdae’s feet tucked below his body, arms loosely around Kai’s waist.

It wasn’t hard. Kai just had to stay close enough, until Jongdae got tired of running away.

“You’re scared of your cat,” Kai says. “You’re scared of knowing what you really are like, once the veneer of civilization has been ripped away. You’re scared that you are nothing more than the lynx, desperate for meat and a neck-rub.”

He tips his head, says, “you’re right, to be scared. In those moments, you’re just a cat, a cat who does what he wants. And what’s wrong with that? Why don’t you want to see the worst you can be?  Why are you so scared of knowing what you want, and how far you’ll go to get it? This world wants you to talk and look human but tries its best to keep you from being that. It’ll open you up, one day, push and squeeze and coerce and entice you until you don’t have ready words or clothes or smile left, only yourself without anything to hold you back.

It’s a betrayal of yourself to see yourself too clearly, it stays like a vivid death-face, changing your face in the mirror. But it’s also an honest accusation that you need to make only once, to yourself. A chance to see yourself for who you can be, and pin that down, pin it on you, say, that’s you, this is me with my mouth and teeth and tongue and throat working with a person’s meat and blood. I did it.

Live with the knowledge of how you can kill when you are pushed, how you can step on someone else’s corpse to reach daylight, away from the pit. No one and nothing else can shake you hard and shatter you, like clumps of powder into dust.

There’s nothing left to fear, after you’ve seen yourself, nothing that can scare you more. Because everything else can be let go of and forgotten, but you can’t step out of your own skin.

You are the lynx. You are part-animal, and part-man, part honesty and part deceit. Why fear it?”

Jongdae’s blinking, trying to catch up. This doesn’t sound like Kai. Kai’s usually fast and brutal, words like a blunt truncheon, swung hard. This is fast and brutal, but it’s also eloquent.

“Are you listening?” Kai asks, exasperated.

Jongdae’s surrounded by warmth, but inside, his heart is cold. Kai’s words are words that no shifter wants to hear.

Shifters are no better than animals; only more dangerous. Shifters can’t be reasoned with. Shifters need a firm hand, guiding them, leading them. Those are the assumptions that people make, about shifters, and because of that, shifters are hunted, trafficked and owned, with the full blessing of the Dynasties behind them.

Owning shifters is the mark of a great House.  _All_ of the Houses, all the royalty – they built their fortune on shifters. The Palace maintains dominion _because_ it distributes licenses to favoured Houses, to people who want to start their own Houses – licenses permitting someone to hunt and own shifters.

Jongdae doesn’t want to be a shifter. He doesn’t want his cat.

“You’re not listening,” Kai says. “I  _grew up with the Palace dogs._ Suho and Xiumin, Yixing, Chanyeol – they groomed me into a person, because I looked useful. Like dogs, shifters have a honesty humans don’t. They have something else they can become, something they can go back to be honest and unashamed. If you hate your shifter, you hate yourself. You’re better off hating your own shadow, instead.”

“I don’t want to be anything,” Jongdae says.

“Run away and hide,” Kai says. “This world will never leave you alone.”

“I don’t want to be angry all the time,” Jongdae says.

“You don’t have to be,” Kai says. “How many years are we alive? Death will come. Before that, we have to live, as well as we can. Why be angry when you can walk away and move on, to a place where no one can hurt you again?

Numbness is temporary, it’s a reaction to pain. It’s not an end, it’s not a state that will keep you safe.”

“I feel like,” Jongdae says, “I feel like I’m not understanding, what you’re saying.”

“I tried,” Kai says.

“I feel like someone said this to you before,” Jongdae says, and laughing quietly, Kai says, “maybe.”

\--

Kai comes by every day, to check on his warriors. He sits with Jongdae – doesn’t feed him, or touch him – just sits with Jongdae, at the pond, both of their trouser legs rolled up, feet in the water.

Jongdae likes to nudge at Kai, until he puts an arm around Jongdae’s shoulder.

Jongdae looks at both of them in the water, their reflections peaceful, broken by the occasional koi surfacing in search of food.

Jongdae always feels hungry, after Kai leaves. He doesn’t touch meat, but everything else that Yixing cooks, he eats.

\--

“Kai says you’ll leave with him.”

Jongdae nods, mouth full of food. Yixing hardly talks to him.

“Why?” Yixing says flatly.

Jongdae thinks about it. He shrugs.

“He’s not a good person,” Yixing says. “I watched that boy grow up, and as you’ve seen, I do almost anything he asks me to. But this boy’s fighting for his survival in the Palace – is fighting for a place for himself. He doesn’t have time to be kind, or be nice. Anything good that he does, it’s a byproduct. It’s not the goal. I’m saying this because I spent  _two months_ patching you back up, and I’m telling you, it won’t be the last time. I could and I will leave that room for you, because you’ll be back soon, if you’re leaving with him.”

“He didn’t ask me,” Jongdae says, “but I didn’t say no. I’m just going.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Jongdae says. Yixing shakes his head, leaves.

If Yixing had stayed, Jongdae might have told him – Jongdae didn’t know what to do, didn’t know who to be, couldn’t trust himself. But Kai offered him a way out, offered him a collar with a sigil but also a long enough chain, tethered to himself – to pats and hugs and a warm body that understood how tightly Jongdae wanted to be bound.

Jongdae didn’t trust Kai, but he trusted that Kai had something in mind for him.

Jongdae’s just tired, of making decisions for himself.


	6. Suho

Jongdae runs, and runs, and runs, because that’s what he’s supposed to do. The other end of the leash clipped to his collar is in Kai’s hand, and Kai’s up on a horse, cantering across the Plains, back to the Palace.

The ground is foreign and soft underfoot, yielding easily. Jongdae’s thankful for that, at least, as dimly thankful he can be among the bag of jolting pains his body has become.

It hurts too much to even gasp much, now. The back of his throat has been on fire for so long it hurts to swallow, and the burning sensation has spread to the back of his eyes, now drying and stretching the skin on his face.

The rest of his body is a lumbering, alien creature Jongdae would chop off if he could. Anything to make this terrible, dead weight gathering in his limbs go away.

Anything to keep up, with Kai.

\--

They’d stopped, and Kai had waited, for Jongdae to close the distance, staggering slowly to Kai’s horse. He kept his gaze on Kai’s legs, astride the horse. Helplessly collapsed, forward, against the flank and dark, sweat-stained tack of Kai’s stallion.

No one else, in his life, has touched Jongdae like that. Kai cradles Jongdae’s head in his hands, letting Jongdae bury his miserable wheezes into Kai’s robe. The cotton scratches his cheek, but the smell of Kai seeps through. Rough, like grass and earth churned and uprooted by hooves.

Kai touches Jongdae, like he knows him. Those hands, Jongdae’s body knows them. The tensed, locked muscles in Jongdae’s face, and the overstretched skin, yield to Kai’s direction. He has a dizzying sensation of his muscles moving, molding themselves to Kai’s hands, even though he knows that’s impossible.

Kai’s shifting, leaning down to cup the back of Jongdae’s head in a leather-gloved hand. Jongdae’s cramped fingers scrape the side of the saddle, and Kai’s robes, uselessly.

“Don’t pass out on me,” Kai says, voice colored with a tone Jongdae can’t name - “we’re not there yet.”

Jongdae gets enough air to make a soft, futile whine.

“You said you wanted to come with me,” Kai complains. “I can’t protect you – I can’t even protect myself, on a good day. And it’s like this … Jongdae, if you can’t keep up, if you can’t be stronger than me, one day I’m going to hurt you, worse than this … the kind of hurt that clasps on to your ankles and dogs the rest of your days, and one day you’re going to hate me enough to turn on me, and kill me. And I’m afraid of dying. Terrified, of how long it takes, to cross that border from almost-death to certainty.

So I don’t want that. I need you to stop me. I don’t need you to die … you want to live, as badly as I do. But I need you to stop pretending that you want to die.  
I’m pushing you, and I’m telling you … stop me. Tear me down and hurt me, until I stop hurting you.”

The thing is, Kai’s hand is gentle.

Jongdae doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Has never wanted to hurt anyone.

He shakes his head, as best as he can.

“Let’s keep going,” Kai says, over the sound of Jongdae’s still-confused gasps.

\--

Jongdae knows the depths of pain; has sunk into it before, goes back into it now, familiar. Lets it lead him over the Plain, breath gone, night falling among then.

Horses thundering across the Plains, Jongdae tethered to Kai’s horse, feet sliced to pieces and consciousness imploding, smothered slowly minute by minute.

Out of the sea of pain, there’s a realization, happening, rising slowly.

\--

They reach the end, the Palace.

Jongdae’s still upright. Dimly he bumps into something - reaches out, fingers, to clench on.

“Stronger,” he croaks, “stronger – I’m, I’m stronger. I can get stronger.”

Feels (imagination, it’s all his imagination) Kai shifting, hand on the back of Jongdae’s head again.

He’s leaning down. Listening.

“Stronger,” Jongdae insists, “stronger.”

Kai’s mouth opening around Jongdae’s, tasting his jagged gasps. Something wet at last.

Jongdae’s standing on glass, standing on fire. He’s sectioned, impaled on spikes of pain.

It’s Kai that shifts his hands under Jongdae’s arms, lifts him (why – how can Kai –) bodily, off his feet. Up onto the horse, in front of Kai.

Kai holding him, arms around Jongdae.

Jongdae noses in, bones disjointing as he starts to change. Fangs long, he presses teeth to the vulnerable skin of Kai’s throat, tasting earth and blood.

Kai goes very, very still. Stops, as Jongdae lets the blood trickle through his teeth, into his malformed jaws. Down his still – changing tongue, into his torn human throat.

“I can,” Jongdae says, shoulders heaving, but his words come out unrecognizable, more a pained snarl than human connection – “I can hurt you.”

Jongdae could have torn through something important. An artery, and the blood would have gushed, not slowly leaked in, thin trails of iron and guilt.

But he didn’t. He didn’t hurt Kai, only grazed, punctured the skin slightly. Enough to wet his throat, and talk.

Kai tilts his head back and fingers the bite marks. Jongdae can’t see his expression.

Then Kai touches him, with his mouth, again - licks the blood from Jongdae’s fangs, tongue sliding across the half-changed teeth, Jongdae’s blood and Kai’s blood wet on their joined tongues. Kai’s hand is on Jongdae’s elongated jaw, where the bone pushes at flesh, threatening to burst through.

Then Jongdae can’t keep hold of it; the transformation slides back, and he’s human again.

Kai has a hand to his mouth, where Jongdae’s fangs cut his tongue. The blood is dark, through his fingers, down the column of his tensed throat.

“You should have said, if you were hungry,” Kai says inanely. Jongdae’s thrown him off-track.

He catches Jongdae, as Jongdae twists in his hold to throw up – blood hot down this throat, writhing in his stomach. Jongdae back and caught in this mortal body of ruined meat and bones.

“So you’re not,” Kai says, over Jongdae.

Jongdae wants to hit him.

\--

Jongdae sleeps. He falls asleep just after they catch sight of the Forbidden Palace on the horizon, the sloped roof and the imposing, burnished walls barely visible in the early dawn light.

He wakes up again when Kai pats him awake. Kai slips off the horse, while Jongdae’s left blinking on it. His legs, the base of his feet, still hurt.

They’re in a giant square that stretches on and on around them, flagstones wide and smooth under the hooves of the horses. Around Jongdae, the other riders are dismounting, moving in the morning sun.

In front of Jongdae is the Forbidden Palace; granite walls long, imposing, flanking the main gates, with three thoroughfares through them. Above the gates are the famed orange roofs, gently fluted on either side, guarded by stone animals lining the top of them.

“We can’t take the horses into the Palace,” Kai says, extending his arms. Jongdae glances at him, then at the other warriors, all retrieving their belongings from their horses.

Gingerly, he climbs down from the horse – Kai catches him, lifts him up and slips him over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes. Jongdae buries his face into Kai’s clothes again, glad to not need to see anything.

So he sees the flagstones, smooth and polished, below. Sees the pavement give way to a stone bridge, the water below it clear to its depths, sees them go up flights and flights of stone steps.

There are people talking, in the accent that people in the Capital have.

Kai doesn’t sound exactly like them. They speak more slowly, measured. Kai’s loud and slips the ends of his words.

And then Kai goes tense, stopping.

“You’re back at last, brother,” a voice says. It’s polite, and calm. Refined. A pause, then – “you brought company, I see.”

“Don’t like keeping my bed empty,” Kai says, “if you took that stick outta your ass… you’d make space for someone else, finally.”

“I don’t need anyone up there,” the voice says, “you could send them to Xiumin, instead. I’m sure he’d receive them with open legs.”

It sends thrills up Jongdae’s spine, this cultured, careful voice speaking word after word of obscenity.

“Why, have you tried?”

“I have propriety,” Suho returns, unruffled by Kai’s sharp reply. “It’s in short supply around here, lately. Bringing a shifter back … those are the teeth marks of animals on your throat, Kai. I’d pull each of his teeth out, and then fill the gaps left with molten lead, if any shifter dared do that to me.”

“And they call me barbaric,” Kai says, relaxing.

“It’s our secret,” Suho says, and Jongdae can hear the smile in his voice.

“Is that all?” Kai asks.

“Rein in your dogs,” Suho says, nicely. “Or I’ll get them neutered, for you.”

“They’re just exercising,” Kai says, mock-exasperated.

“You made your point,” Suho shifts, robe shuffling. “Loudly. Every noble in the Court is either going to come begging at your feet, or shake hands with a knife behind their back.”

“The more unsettled, the better.” Kai adjusts Jongdae, shifting his weight. “If you all are going to keep me trapped here, waiting for me to waste away – I’ll make it as uncomfortable as I can, for everyone.”

“Oh, the threat,” Suho says, sarcasm strong through the entirely polite tone he maintains. “Really, Jongin – how old are you, I forget sometimes. So the Emperor doesn’t trust you, won’t give you land. Won’t send you back out again. So sending your Pack all around to the estates, stirring up trouble … that will convince him to send you back out, into battle.”

“ I’m so honoured to be a threat to you, brother.”

“I don’t know why I even bother,” Suho says, disinterest – something finally marring that politeness – “go ahead, scheme and plot. It provides me with something to do in here, at least.”

He walks off, and Kai starts walking again. But Jongdae can feel the tenseness that refuses to leave Kai, the arm clamped like an iron bar over Jongdae.

\--

Kai’s rooms are palatial, panelled with wood of a warm, red-like hue – paper screens and bamboo doors delicately crafted – but there’s nothing inside his sleeping chambers but rows and rows of paper scrolls, and a bed, recessed in the wall, gauze curtains pulled tight over it.

Those next few days, they are the best memories Jongdae will have for a long while.

Behind Kai’s room is a warm spring, bubbling out of the rocks like a miracle, cloud of steam visible in the cold nights. Kai takes Jongdae to only two place – his bed, or the spring. At night sometimes Jongdae holds Kai, while Kai reads, Jongdae’s face buried in Kai’s wool undershirt. Other times Kai takes care of Jongdae, changes his bandages, feeds him, strokes him until Jongdae falls asleep, fingers clutched tight in Kai’s clothes.

It’s like they’re safe in here, both of them.

On the fourth day, when Kai’s out, someone else comes in.

Jongdae recognizes his voice. He parts the curtains, looking down at Jongdae, who’s slowly struggling awake.

“Lynx,” the man says, and Jongdae knows that voice – it’s the same person he heard, the one called –

“I’m Suho,” the man says. He reaches a hand down and grasps Jongdae’s collar, swiftly, pulling it forward to inspect it – strong enough that Jongdae’s hands scrabble at the collar, it’s choking -

“Have you forgotten about the rest of your tribe?”

Jongdae stares the yellow, stitched on his sleeves. He opens his mouth to say he hasn’t, and for a confusing moment, he doesn’t know what Suho’s talking about.

But he does, doesn’t he? He’s forgotten.

“It took a while to find out where he’d picked you up from. If you do something for me, I’ll reinstate your tribe,” Suho promises. “If you don’t, I’ll let you choose for them – brothel, coal mine, or the Pit.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Suho reassures, “we’ll just talk, once every few weeks. You’ll come and we’ll talk, about what Jongin has been up to. Now,” he says, “I know Jongin’s off to see that Pack of his … why don’t we start, now? What Jongin and Xiumin are up to, together?”

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted on asianfanfics


End file.
